These Kids Lacked Some Parental Guidance

, , , , | Right | June 17, 2019

(A young teenager who has purchased tickets to a PG-rated film has just been caught sneaking into an R-rated film. I happen to recall this customer, as I sold him the ticket.)

Me: “Excuse me, sir. Do you have tickets for this film?”

Customer: “Yeah.”

Me: “May I see them?”

Customer: “I left them in the theater.”

Me: “Which theater? We can go find them.”

Customer: “Nah, my cousin has them.”

Me: “You do know you need to be 17 or older to see this film, correct?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “May I see some ID?”

Customer: “I don’t have it.”

Me: “Okay, that is fine. I recall you purchasing a ticket for [Movie]. If you would like to go back in there, that is okay.”

Customer: “F*** you, man.”

Me: “Well, in that case, you’re welcome to head through that door over there.”

(I gesture to the exit.)

Customer: “I want my money back.”

Me: “Sure. If we can get your tickets, we can return them to the box office for a refund.”

Customer: “I don’t want a refund; I want my money back.”

Me: “Well, you can either get your money back or get a refund. Pick one, because they’re both the same thing.”

Customer: “I don’t need this s***. F*** you.”

Me: “Well, in that case, let me walk you to this door.”

(I escorted him out of the building, sans refund.)

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Unfiltered Story #93778

, , | Unfiltered | September 11, 2017

Customer: *in the Drive-Thru* “Hey do ya’ll have any specials going on right now?”

Me: “Yes we do! We have a five-dollar quarter pounder meal deal.”

Customer: “Oh, how much is that?”

Me: Um… five dollars?

The Race Card Is Double Sided

, , , , , | Right | December 16, 2013

(My husband and I are new to the area. We are trying out a popular fried chicken restaurant that is on a side of town primarily occupied by black people. I am white, and my husband is Mexican.)

Me: “This chicken is great!”

Husband: “Yeah, but it’d be better with some hot sauce! I’ll go get some!”

(I slide out of the booth we are in to let him out. As I step back I accidentally bump another patron who is walking back up front to refill his drink. He drops his cup.)

Me: “Oops! I’m sorry!”

Customer: *glaring at me* “What’s wrong with you? You in the wrong side of town. You think you can hit me just cuz I’m black?! Racist b****!”

(My husband is about to intervene, but I speak up.)

Me: “You think you can say that just because I’m white?”

Customer: *long pause* “…say what?”

Me: “You think you can claim I’m racist just because I’m white?”

Customer: “I… you… what?”

Me: “Seeing as how my husband is Mexican, I don’t think you can cry racism on this one, man. Nice try.”

(I pick up his cup and get a whiff of what he was drinking.)

Me: “What were you drinking? Sprite?”

Customer: “…yeah.”

(I go refill his drink for him and hand it back to him with a smile on my face.)

Me: “There ya go.”

Customer: “You pretty nice, for a cracker.”

Me: “You’re pretty nice, for someone so ignorant. Racism works both ways, man. Don’t let it—”

Customer: “—yeah. Okay. Sorry.”

(Thankfully, my husband and I finished our meals without any more interruptions.)

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